


The Voices And How They Appear

by les_jupiter



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Drabble, Gen, I am so incredibly bad at tagging im so sorry, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Random & Short, headcanons, no beta we die like men
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 23:27:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 667
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28255395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/les_jupiter/pseuds/les_jupiter
Summary: I saw a Tumblr post about how the chat might appear to different streamers, since Technoblade canonized his, and I was inspired lol.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 63





	The Voices And How They Appear

To Techno, the voices are a curse.

They haunt his mind, demand blood, scream directions at him until his head spins. Sure, sometimes they’re bearable, on the days when they appear only as a gentle ringing in his ear. They can even be helpful at times, when his poor map-reading ability comes back to bite him and he needs to be pointed towards his destination.

But those occasions are rare.

More often, they exist only to make his life hell.

But he’s been getting better at controlling it. It’s easier when he’s all the way in the frozen tundra, away from anyone he could hurt if he were to lose control. It’s easier when the only who he sees regularly is Phil, who he wouldn’t even consider ever harming no matter how loudly the voices called.

And until he can completely control it, the voices will have to wait.

\- - -

To Tubbo, the voices are a distraction.

They appear to him as bees carrying whispered messages of encouragement and inside jokes. When the quiet atmosphere of New L’Manberg feels infinitely lonelier without the loud (and if we’re being honest, a little annoying) presence of a certain person, and the presidential office feels more like a jail cell, they always appear with some kind of message.

So now, whenever he walks by the glass-roofed apiary on the outskirts of L’Manberg, he can’t help but hope that one of the bees inside will deliver a soft-spoken piece of advice. But sometimes, they aren’t always that kind.

They are a distraction, but not always a good one.

When he brings up Tommy, they tell him it’s all his fault that things ended up this way. When he sees a cobblestone tower and a campsite in ashes, they swarm around him, carrying the story of his best friend’s death on their wings. When he feels it’s all too much, they tell him that it is.

These days, they are less of a distraction and more of a mournful reminder.

\- - -

To Tommyinnit, the voices are really fucking annoying.

Like Tommy himself, they leave messages written over the walls, sprawled out in unfamiliar handwriting that seems to change with every other message.

It was infuriating, especially since no one else could see them, so he learned to ignore it.

During his first time in exile, however, when Wilbur’s sanity was slowly declining with every passing day, the words written on the walls seemed almost comforting. Pogtopia might not have been short on allies, but it was short on people who could be fully trusted, and Tommy hated feeling alone. So he would idly skim them on the quieter days whenever he got bored.

His second time, however, their message was very different.

Jump. Do it. 

Bitter, intrusive words written clearly in the surrounding netherrack, echoing and magnifying his thoughts like a funhouse mirror. It didn’t matter that they weren’t audible, they might as well have been deafening.

But Tommy learns to ignore them like he’s always done.

\- - -

To Wilbur, the voices take many forms.

Sometimes they are the shadows on the walls cast by dim torchlight, sometimes they are the cool breeze on a starless night. They can be the smell of bread or the babbling of a familiar creek.

Wilbur has realized that the voices take the forms of things that bring him some kind of happiness. However, after he loses everything, his country, his son, even his pride, the voices sound further and further away, as if they’re shouting at him from the other side of the wall.

Sometimes he can’t even hear them at all. No matter how much he screams at the world or sits in complete and utter silence, they’re gone.

Just like everything else.

Later, after he’s died and come back as a ghost, he doesn’t even remember the voices. He can’t hear them, nor do they even cross his mind.

Even if he remembered they were ever there, it’s not likely that they would ever come back.

\- - -


End file.
